


Older Brother

by Kneamet



Category: British Actor RPF, Crimson Peak (2015), Crimson Peak (2015) RPF, James McAvoy - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Incest, Inspired by Crimson Peak (2015), Murder Wives, Obsession, Psychopaths In Love, Rape, Sex, Smut, Yandere, older brother thomas sharpe, reader sister of Thomas Sharpe, yandere Thomas Sharpe, yandere tom hiddleston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kneamet/pseuds/Kneamet
Summary: What if the story of Crimson Peak existed in reality? A menacing atmosphere, Gothic dresses and costumes, an intriguing Sharpe family, with a sister who has a rather strange relationship with her older brother Thomas (yes, Tom here plays the role of Lucille, you are in the role of Thomas and James in the role of Edith)
Relationships: James McAvoy/Reader, Thomas Sharpe/Original Female Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Reader, Thomas Sharpe/You, Tom Hiddleston/James McAvoy/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Thomas Sharpe/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/You
Comments: 45
Kudos: 65





	1. 1

"I don't want to do this again," you whispered pityingly to your brother. Your eyes filled with tears, and Thomas just rolled his eyes.

With a slow, predatory gait, he began to approach you, smiling a dangerous smile. Putting his left arm around you, he placed his right hand on your cheek, starting to stroke it with light and slow movements.

"You will do it, dear sister. You can do this," his hand touched your soft hair and lightly squeezed. You gasped in pain and tried to free yourself from his hand-held captivity, but only made the situation worse. "You know what happens if you're not going to be good, right?"you nodded, startled. Sharpe put his face close to your ear and whispered: "you will marry James Cushing and we will get his money and live happily ever after. And you can continue your work."

"Well... All Right, Thomas."

"Now you will go to him and make him an offer, as we discussed earlier. And just try to disappoint me. "

* * *

**3 weeks ago**

"It may take all day, but it will look beautiful," James whispered admiringly, chuckling slightly as he took the papers her friend handed him.

"Good morning," said an unknown voice. English accent. Likably.

The boy looked up.

The most beautiful eyes he had ever seen in his life stared back at him. He blinked a couple of times and looked at the woman in front of him. On you. Her hair was neatly arranged, a few strands falling over her forehead. His writer's brain was instantly busy selecting adjectives to describe you: stunning, elegant, winning. You were dressed in a blue corduroy suit that was once luxurious — another apt definition — and perfectly tailored to accentuate the width of your shoulders, but now it's rubbed hard at the cuffs. It wasn't that the clothes screamed poverty, but it was clear that their owner was going through a rough time. However, you returned his gaze with a dignity that spoke of refined manners and good breeding.

Another definition occurred to Jim: extremely beautiful.

He gave no sign of these thoughts, waiting for the visitor to say more. The Secretary, for her part, was speechless. You had a polished wooden box under your arm. It looked very heavy – it seemed that the visitor wanted to get rid of it as quickly as possible.

"Sorry to interrupt," you hesitated for a second, your eyes lingering on James. "I have a meeting with Mr. Latimer Cushing."  
"My God, with this great man? he swallowed slightly, looking away.

"Exactly," you said proudly, smiling softly and holding out your business card. Jim hesitated, then accepted it.

"Y/N Sharpe. Baroness, " the writer said the last word almost to himself.

"He'll be here soon, mA'am," the guy said, looking into your eyes as he handed the card to Jenny.

"Thank you," the words were followed by another smile.

"You're not late, I hope? He doesn't stand for it," James asked, getting up from his chair.

"Not at all, I'm a little early," you followed Cushing.

"Oh, and he doesn't stand for that," the guy said mockingly, already turning and heading for the stairs with a pile of paper.

"I apologize for being curious, but this is a detective, isn't it?" you've caught James's attention again. He turned around in confusion when he saw you looking at the text.

"That's right," he came closer.

"And who are you printing it for? 

" it will be sent to New York Tomorrow."

"And whoever wrote it... The detective is pretty good, " you said, frowning slightly.

"Really?" with hope in his voice asked James.

"It definitely caught my attention. "

" I wrote it. He's mine, " Cushing said, lifting his head slightly.

"Ghosts..." you said in mock admiration.

"Well, it's just a metaphor. Jim was about to explain how he was interrupted.

"I've always been interested in this topic. So, where I come from, ghosts are taken seriously," you smiled. "There will be a reception at the Keatons' tomorrow... Tell me, would you like to attend it?" you tilted your head, removing your bangs with your hand. The guy bit his lip and looked doubtful.

Usually it was guys who invited girls to balls or receptions, but since you didn't like this rule, you decided to do everything your own way and you didn't care. Plus, your brother wouldn't be happy if you failed this marriage.

You flinched and your eyes widened slightly. Hell, what happens if everything fails?

"I agree," James said, clearly uncomfortable.

You chuckled and grinned.


	2. 2

The sumptuous, romantic sounds of Mozart poured out from under Thomas's fingers, and all the participants in the ball, most of them standing, held their breath at once. The baronet sat very straight, leaning slightly over the keys. His art was impeccable. Nevertheless, he was surrounded by an aura of inaccessibility and even coldness.

Thomas sharp ended the game with a great passage, but not everyone realized that the music did not reflect his soul at all. He was clearly more than just a handsome man traveling with his sister. I wonder what his dreams are and what he wants. The man was slightly older than lady Y/N and apparently unmarried.

When the company broke into applause, Tom stood up and bowed modestly. However, something drew the audience's attention away from the pianist, and a whisper passed through the hall. Everyone else turned away from sir Thomas to see what had caused the commotion.

Lady Y/N, the lost guest, finally appeared in the hall.

James stood on his arm, dressed in a stunning suit.

When Sharpe saw that the eyes of the audience were not on him, he looked up to see what had stirred the audience. Sister. He clenched his hand into a fist.

Yes, apart from the fact that Tom was as eager to get the money as you were, he had no doubt, but He didn't really want to share you with anyone... You were his! You belonged to him!

Tom and Y/N looked at each other. Wrong thoughts were forming in their heads.

"James," you chimed in, smiling, "this is sir Thomas sharp, my brother," Cushing smiled and the man gave him a fake smile.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Cushing," Thomas said. "That's who my sister owes, "he leaned in and kissed you, murmuring softly in your ear," we'll talk at the hotel, " and you nodded, swallowing and looking forward to what would happen next. "Why are you in a suit? Didn't we agree that you would wear your mother's dress?" James looked from you to Thomas in disbelief. 

"Thomas, I - "

" Ladies and Gentlemen, please step aside. The Baroness wants to show you how to waltz... In the European style," said the hostess of the party.

You, after a quick glance at your brother, who was just going to the piano, took the candle from the servant's hand and went to the middle.

"The waltz is not really a difficult dance. The lady stands slightly to the left of the leading gentleman. Six basic steps, that's all. Nevertheless, it is believed that a real waltz should be fast, perfect and so smooth that the capricious flame of the candle in the hand of the presenter does not go out. "It takes... the perfect partner," you said loudly. Some of them got a little closer to you, but your target was James. "Do you agree?" you asked Cushing, giving him a soft smile. He looked into your eyes, confused.

A small murmur ran through the room. A girl dressed as a man asks a guy to dance? Where has this been seen?

"Consonant."

Good thing no one saw Thomas's eye twitch.

***

Your relationship with James was perfect. During these 3 weeks, you have become very close. He was a great conversationalist and a great friend. You thought that if your brother wasn't controlling you, you and Cushing might have gotten away with something.

You took a deep breath, pausing at the door. By clicking on the handle, you went in. Looking down at your feet and muttering to yourself, you didn't notice that you bumped into someone. That someone was James. You smiled.

When you saw Cushing picking up the papers he had scattered, your eyes suddenly opened wide. Today you will have to make him an offer. And he will have to agree.

***

"I don't want to do this again," you whispered pityingly to your brother. Your eyes filled with tears, and Thomas just rolled his eyes.

With a slow, predatory gait, he began to approach you, smiling a dangerous smile. Putting his left arm around you, he placed his right hand on your cheek, starting to stroke it with light and slow movements.

"You will do it, dear sister. You can do this," his hand touched your soft hair and lightly squeezed. You gasped in pain and tried to free yourself from his hand-held captivity, but only made the situation worse. "You know what happens if you're not going to be good, right?"you nodded, startled. Sharpe put his face close to your ear and whispered: "you will marry James Cushing and we will get his money and live happily ever after. And you can continue your work."

"Well... All Right, Thomas."

"Now you will go to him and make him an offer, as we discussed earlier. And just try to disappoint me."

***

Memories flashed through your mind.

Thomas... Your brother... You knew it was wrong to do what you were doing, but you couldn't make him stop. Unfortunately, then he would have beaten you.

Blinking briefly, you looked down at your suit and reached into your pocket for the ring box.

You saw that he was in love with you. This was clear from his awkward movements and stuttering.

Although the girls never proposed, you couldn't help it because your brother made you. But you didn't understand why he was using you... Why can't he breed people and marry girls himself? Why exactly did you get this job?

"Is everything all right?" he asked as he finally gathered up the papers and adjusted his glasses. When you finally gathered your strength, you finally spoke.

"Mr. Cushing... James ... I don't have the right to ask this, but..."

"What is it, Y/N?" you were happy to see that he dropped your title and was now talking to you normally.

However, your awkward and failed conversation was interrupted by Latimer Cushing, James ' father.

"Lady Y/N... I have a serious conversation to have with you and your brother. Would you be so kind as to call him? James, please tell everyone we'll be back soon.

***

"So, lady Y/N, sir Thomas, on our first meeting, you couldn't help but notice my dislike for you.

"You made it clear, sir, but I was hoping that in time you - "

"Your time is up. "

" What do you mean?"raising an eyebrow, you asked, swallowing and glancing at your brother. The man's brows were very furrowed.

"I'm afraid you won't like it," he turned to your brother, as if to say that it would be easier to communicate with him. "Thomas," he said, and the older Sharpe nodded. "In the past few days, your sister has thought it possible to interfere with my business and, clearly, by being familiar and courting my son. Only son.

"Sir, I understand my position is not high, but with all due respect, I-

"I don't know what it's like in England, but we don't do that. For a girl to take care of a guy, not the other way around," the man protested, and you opened your mouth. "I take it you fell in love with him, right? Am I right, lady?""your eyes expressed sadness and seemed to want to say something. "You're a great actress...- he leaned over some papers. -Recently, my son asked me why I disliked you so much. I didn't have an answer at the time, but now I do. Here is this document, " he handed it to your brother. "He put all the dots in place. By the way, for the first time I see that your reaction, lady Sharpe, is not fake.- Your eyes darted around the room, however, the document in took.

In fact, even though you didn't know James that long, only 3 weeks ago, you knew that you were starting to feel something for him. Although this has never happened before.

James was funny, smart, protective, protective. He would be a perfect match for someone. And you didn't really want to involve him in your business with your brother, but unfortunately, you didn't decide here.

"Does he know?- Tom asked, taking the papers from you and looking through them.

"No, but I'll tell him if I have to. "

" Sir, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but - " you were about to say you were interrupted by a man.

"You are in love. I know. You repeat yourself," Cushing turned to your brother, handing him an envelope. -So, Thomas, I think you're thinking more sensibly. I know I'm being overly generous, but to get this money, you need to meet two conditions.   
There's a train leaving for new York tomorrow morning. You and your sister must leave. Do we understand each other?"

"Of course. What is the second condition?" Tom asked politely.

"It concerns my son," he turned to you. "You must break his heart today, lady Sharpe."

Men looked at you. You swallowed excitedly.

You didn't want to break his heart. It was still too innocent.

***

Thomas, you and Latimer returned to the table, allowing you to take the most prominent position. This was the time to break James's heart.

You closed your eyes for a second and stood up, tapping your spoon against the glass. Everyone paid no attention to you.

With a sigh, you spoke:

"Ladies and gentlemen," you smiled seductively, but it didn't show in your eyes. "I came to America with my brother for hopes and a couple of pounds in my pocket. However, realizing that we can't do anything here, we decided to leave here, since there is nothing holding us here, " you said loudly and was about to sit down when James jumped out from behind the table and ran towards the stairs.

But you managed to overtake him and block his path.

"James".

"You're leaving," he said softly, looking down at his feet.

"Yes, my brother and I must leave immediately.

"I see," Jim said angrily, heading up the stairs and into the room.

"Your detective... I finished reading it last night. Tomorrow morning it will be returned to you, "seeing that the guy is not interested in your conversation, you spoke again:" do you Want to know my opinion? Cushing stopped and nodded lightly... It's eerily banal and predictable," you started walking towards it, starting to get closer. "The seriousness with which you describe the scenes of investigation and murder is ridiculous," you leaned even closer to him. "You haven't experienced anything like this, have you?"

"Stop it!" Jim exclaimed loudly. Suddenly, out of the blue, guests appeared in the hallway, looking at your quarrel with a lot of curiosity on their faces.

You blocked the writer's path again. "I'm not finished yet!"

Your eyes, as well as Jim's, were filled with genuine tears. Swallowing them, you continued:

"You've never seen a corpse, have you? Have you ever dreamed of ghosts? You are just a silly sentimental boy who has not yet come out of daddy's wing and experienced the real life and suffering, " your speech was interrupted by a loud slap in the face.

James ran away in tears to the room, and you were left standing in the middle of the corridor and the guests. Raising the look, you're met with the sight of his brother standing near the door.

***

Your trip to the hotel with Thomas was very quiet and stressful. You didn't say a word to each other, but you knew something would happen at the hotel that you wouldn't like.

After paying the coachman, you went outside and went to the hotel. Thomas, as always, opened the door to your room for you.

Locking it, he turned to you, who was taking off her corduroy coat. Slowly taking off his coat, the elder Sharpe walked over to the bed where you were sitting, head bowed in shame.

He squatted down in front of you and took your chin in his hands, gently pulling it to him and giving you a rough kiss. He pushed you down on the bed and slowly took off his shirt.

You looked at him absently. Why now? However, you didn't have the strength to ask, so you just told your brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

James didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't even care that he was wearing clothes and an old servant entered the room with papers. Jim recognized them immediately. These were the last pages of his detective story, which Y/n had so courteously brought. But now he hated them. Especially after what happened yesterday -

And how many tears he shed.

"Mr. - "

"What is it, Liam?" James asked, burying his face in the pillow.

"Your manuscript was delivered to lady Sharpe this morning, but I didn't bother to Wake you." Leave it on the table?" Cushing waved a hand at the pile of junk on the table. The servant carefully placed the papers there.

James sat up slightly and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at what had come to him. "It says here that it is from Lady sharp. Do you want to read it?" the middle-aged man asked politely, to which he shook his head and extended his hand. Liam enclosed the letter, straightened his coat, and left.

When Cushing heard the door to the room close, he got out of bed and put on his glasses as he opened the letter.

_"Dear James,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Your father made it clear that in my current financial situation, I can't be with you. And I completely agree with this. He also asked me to break your heart — to take the blame on myself. And I agreed to that, too. It seems to me that I have successfully handled this case._

_But know that whatever happens, whatever you and I have to go through, just know that I love you._

_Yours,  
Y/N."_

His eyes watered, and his mind filled with euphoria and delight. So you weren't a scoundrel and a heartless traitor? But James had a bad question: when does the train leave?

"Liam, coat!" Cushing shouted as he ran out of the room, grabbing his coat and running outside, getting dressed as he went. Hell, he had to make it.

Jim ran for all his strength. His legs were tired, tense, and itchy, but he wasn't up to it now. Now it was necessary to get to Y/N.

When James saw the hotel where the Sharps were staying, he quickly ran into the building. After looking around, he walked quickly to the front Desk.

"Tell me," he tried to catch his breath. "Where are the Sharps staying?" he raised his beautiful blue eyes to the woman. She muttered something about the number "130", to which Jim nodded and thanked her and ran up the stairs.

When Jim ran into the room, he saw nothing: no suitcases, no untidy room. And that was what the two maids were doing, who were now looking at Cushing, who was trying to catch his breath.

"Where are Y/N and Thomas Sharpe, please?" asked Cushing, to which the maids muttered something about their departure.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Cushing? a soft voice sounded in his ear. Suddenly, getting up in alarm, he looked back. You.

You frowned.

"What are you doing here, James?"you were interested in what the writer, not caring about everything, put his hands on your cheeks and leaned over and kissed.

You opened your eyes in alarm, but you let the guy deepen the kiss and put your arm around his shoulders. Your kiss was tender, tremulous, and lost.

James looked up from your sweet lips and said,

" I've been looking for you, lady Y/n. I tried - " his tearful speech was interrupted by you, this time you kissed him yourself. His tears burned your lips.

"Silent."

Without saying a word and taking your arm, you and Jim went to the exit, but the way was blocked by an unknown man standing next to Liam.

Now you're going slower. My heart suddenly began to beat faster, and my eyes began to fill with invisible drops again. James looked at the men who were looking at him with the deepest sadness.

***

Death.

James had never experienced so much emotion after her mother's death. He didn't know what to think. 

They're taking him to the morgue. He walks as if to an execution, with a slow and agitated gait. You support him and he leans on you. Too afraid.

You entered a cold room. There were about five people standing at a small table. Cushing suggested that they were doctors. 

He began to walk slowly toward the table. Opening the bedspread with his hand, Jim opened it. Horrified by the unexpected, he abruptly closed it, diving into your arms. You just stroked it with slow, soothing movements. 

And though your face was sympathetic, your eyes were cold, because you knew who did it. Thomas.

You groaned inwardly. Why did you have to be the one to suffer such a fate? Why is Thomas your brother? 

You said you wouldn't kill Latimer, that you would leave James and his father and his wealth alone. But somehow Thomas didn't care.

***

_"Send me a newspaper tomorrow! Latimer shouted to his personal servant, continuing to shave with neat movements and trying not to believe the skin._

_Suddenly, the room became so quiet that you could hear water falling on the tiles and the sound of a rat rustling._

_Cushing exhaled loudly and was about to remove the foam when he was interrupted in the middle of the process by a noise from the back booth._

_He frowned and walked over to the booth, looking in._

_"Hey, is anyone here -" before he could finish, he felt hands on his skin. Before he could do anything, they dragged him to the sink and hit his head. So far, all he felt was shock at what was happening. He stumbled and fell to his knees. The figure, which might have been a man, leaned over him and beat his head against the shells again and again._

_Boom!_

_the frontal bone Broke._

_Another blow._

_A purple bed gushed out of the shattered skull._

_Another blow and Latimer Cushing felt nothing more. He was now officially dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter


	4. 4

And here's the cemetery again, the guy thought to himself, holding on to your hand. James didn't want you to think he was grieving, but the way he was acting made everyone think so.

You took a deep breath as you looked at the coffin. Before your eyes, Cushing, your possibly fiancé, lost the most precious thing that ever happened to him.

His father.

You didn't really remember your father. All he could think about was that he was some rich nobleman and that he owed money and couldn't pay it back. And the fact that you and Thomas were treated pretty badly by him, just like your mother.

You quickly shook your head and looked back at James, hugging him even tighter. No words were needed now. Your touches and looks spoke for themselves.

Suddenly there was another sob. Jim was crying on your shoulder, but you just ran your hands over his back in a circular motion.

"It's okay. I'll help you deal with it. I'll help you, " you muttered to yourself, knowing that there was nothing you could give him but suffering and death.

***

James didn't remember falling asleep. On a trip home to you, now officially his wife, after the honeymoon, has proven difficult. Now you probably ask, how much have they already gone to you? Well, there's an easy answer to that. You didn't want to leave Thomas alone, as Jim realized, and he didn't want to leave you.

You looked at the sleepy face of your husband, who was now leaning against you. You smiled sweetly and looked out the window. He was very nice and you didn't want to break his heart by killing him. It was as if you already loved him.

Oh, and don't forget that Cushing decided to change his last name to yours back then, just because he liked your last name, Sharpe, so much better. And even though you tried to talk him out of this rash and unpleasant decision, after so much persuasion, you agreed.

When you heard that the carriage was beginning to pass through the hummocks, you stroked your husband's soft and weightless movements through his soft hair and whispered in his ear: "Wake up, James, we're here."

When you saw your husband's eyelids flutter softly, you almost groaned. He, if he fascinates you so much, what will happen on your wedding night?

You knew that Thomas wouldn't let other people and men touch you and make love to you. He didn't even let your past husbands do it.

You knew that if you didn't listen to him, you would be punished.

"Darling," Mr. Sharpe whispered softly in your ear, distracting you from your thoughts and holding out his hand. You blinked your eyes a couple of times quickly and looked at the outstretched hand. A glance behind your husband's back told you that you had already arrived.

Smiling, you put your hand in his and got out of the carriage. The coachman who was carrying your things followed you.

"Where should I put this?" he asked loudly, and you perked up, not looking at Jim, who was looking around the house in awe.

"I'll show you out," you exclaimed loudly, and walked toward your room, where your new husband would need to settle down.

The coachman nodded and followed you.

After watching you go, James slowly began to look around the house. It was simple... Simply stunning. So unusual, but very dark. The new Mr. Sharpe thought he could write a book based on the house and this history of the house.

But something else was bothering him now. How could two relatives, Thomas and you, keep such a big house together? Couldn't they just sell it? Plus, then they would have received money and his wife would not have had to deal with men's Affairs.

Suddenly, however, movement caught his attention. He looked more closely and realized that it was a man. A very thin and tall man who looked like a man in his dreams.

"James," your voice called softly. You went up to him and kissed his skinny cheek. "What happened? You look very scared, " you asked, clearly knowing the answer.

"I saw some skinny figure," he pointed to the room with the fireplace, to which you only rolled your eyes slightly, giving him a warm smile. He reflected your smile. You went in the direction of that room.

"Thomas!" you cried out loudly, throwing your arms around your brother. He hugged you tightly, and it seemed to Jim, who was standing behind you, very possessively.

Your eye twitched slightly at the very suffocating sensation and the way your brother was showing your belonging to him.

"We'll talk later," Thomas whispered softly in your ear and kissed you on the lips, not the way a man and a woman kiss, but the way a brother and sister should kiss.

You quickly stepped out of your brother's embrace, giving your husband a quick glance and a smile.

"Come on, I'll show you our room, honey," you said softly to James. He fluttered his eyes in embarrassment and followed you, not noticing Tom's murderous gaze.

***

After showing your new husband the bathroom and your room, you forced him to go to bed and then went in a completely different direction to your room with James. You went to your brother's room knowing you were going to be in trouble.

Opening the door, you went into the room, seeing that your brother is now sitting at the table and writing something diligently. When you crept up on him carefully and looked closely, you realized that he was thinking about killing your husband.

Unlike her other past husbands, he didn't like James.

"Why did you let him use our proud name?” he asked sharply, scribbling something in his notebook and not looking at you.

Your eyes fluttered and darted around the room, you didn't know what to say. When he heard your brother get up from the chair, he came over to you and lifted your chin, slowly beginning to caress it. However, without finishing the caress, he sharply squeezed your cheeks, making them very painful and turning your head and eyes to him.

"To bed! Quickly!" the man muttered, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widened, and you knew that your husband's room was just a few minutes away, and God forbid that he would hear you.

"Thomas... I don't want to," you said softly, and Thomas's hand tightened around your arm even more painfully.

He turned to you with the decision to kill you.

"What did you tell me?" Tom asked, startling you with the intonation in his voice. "Didn't I make myself clear?" when he saw your look, he said, " To bed, my dear sister. Now!"

***

_You were cornered by your mother's screams. The marks of her beating were visible all over your small and innocent body._

_"You must behave like a lady!" your mother screamed at you loudly, slapping her hand against your cheek again. She didn't care about your tears._

_"M-mommy-" you whispered, hand posing, as if trying to calm her anger._

_"Why can't you listen to me?"_

_"Mom, stop it!" a 13-year-old boy screamed, hugging his sister and protecting her from further beatings._

_My mother just let out an angry sigh._

_"Get away from her, Thomas!" cried lady Sharpe loudly. "This scoundrel deserves to be treated like this!" the woman screamed again, and was about to strike when Thomas picked up his younger sister and ran quickly upstairs to her room._

_After putting you on the bed, sobbing, he brought a blanket and covered you with it, sitting down next to you and stroking your head._

_You nodded your thanks, and the boy just sighed._

_When Tom saw you begin to calm down, he slowly leaned toward you, but when He saw the horror in your eyes, he stopped, saying:_

_"I just want to do something nice for you. I've seen people on the streets do this, so-" Sharpe had no time to finish when a slight nod came from your side._

_When he saw it, he took you by the chin and pressed his lips to yours. His lips were very soft and tender, and the very kiss that he gave was just charming._

_You leaned forward and, on your own initiative, threw him on the bed without stopping the kiss._

_From this day until the end of his days, he will protect his sister and will not allow anyone to harm her. Even if he has to kill someone himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter


	5. 5

"How many times do I have to tell you again?" hissed Thomas, pointing to the bed. You closed your eyes and tried to think of something else, but there was only one thing on your mind right now. Now you will be punished and you will have to respond to his caresses.

Nodding obediently, you went to the bed, taking off all your clothes and getting into your brother's bed. Thomas was already naked.

He licked his lips, pouncing on you hotly, kissing you. His kiss, unlike James's, was always very hard and possessive, jealous and furious.

When he realized that there was no response to his kiss, he pulled away from your sensitive lips and slapped your face. It wasn't loud, but it was very noticeable. There are tears in your eyes.

"When I kiss you and give you my affection, you must respond to me! he exclaimed.

You took a few breaths. Your jaw quivered and you nodded.

The man smiled, and the owl leaned toward you, but this time it was to use a simple caress on your chest and stomach.

His big soft hands caressed your hands and you couldn't help but gasp. It was nice. Tom found erogenous zones.

Clucking, he shook his head and winked at you.

The next second, you realized that he was already inside you.

***

James had never thought a bath could be so pleasant. It was washed clean and Jim added the aramatic salts that his wife had brought with her. And to be honest, he was very surprised when he realized that they are very pleasant. They were roses, he realized.

A strong wind was blowing outside the Windows. The Windows rattled with the effort, and Sharpe sank deeper into the water.

But then he thought he heard a noise, something like a rustle, or a knock, or something... to cry.

Trying to listen, he looked out into the long corridor. Despite the fact that his heart was pounding rapidly in his young chest, he was ready to stand up for himself if anything happened.

Perhaps his wife was right when she talked about his bathroom fantasy. Relaxing, he leaned back.

Suddenly he thought he heard the rustling again. But it wasn't Y/N that promised to bring him tea. They have yet to ... get to know each other. He had never seen her in a nightgown. Yes, they still slept in separate rooms, since you supported his mourning and respected his borders, but now you will have to get to know each other again.

However, he suddenly heard a thud.

The ball rolled into the bathroom.

Rolled in by itself.

***

Happy James calmed down from a near-fatal breakdown by being in bed in your, and now his, room. You fussed around him, lighting the fire, checking on your husband's health, bringing him tea.

"Here you go," you muttered, leaning toward your husband, who was now smiling at you with a strong smile. "Tea will cheer you up."

"What kind of tea?" the guy asked before taking a long drink.

"With pyrocantha," you replied, knowing you were lying. Yes, some of pyracantha! Ordinary poison! you wanted to cry out in indignation, but you also knew that this would be followed by another punishment. And you didn't want to be raped again. "He is very useful..." and stopped, your mouth was very deceitful. When you saw James wince slightly at the taste, you took a deep breath. "Didn't like it?"

"A little bitter," the writer replied, handing the Cup to you. Your face immediately became sad and hunted. This face always appeared in very strange moments when you should be happy. Jim didn't understand what was causing this melancholy.

However, he didn't know how much you were sometimes intimidated by your brother and that for any insubordination, he could hit you.

"Only such things grow on this earth," you muttered softly to yourself as you walked over to the fireplace and threw extra wood at it.

Suddenly a deafening groan rang through the room. It echoed through the room, causing the hair on the back of James's neck to stand up and he clung tightly to his wife.

"What was that?" in a whisper he said. Sharpe would have liked to be a real man, but he was so afraid of ghosts and the supernatural that he was terrified even of them. Don't forget about his old dreams, either.

"This is the East wind. When it rises in the chimney, a vacuum is created. And if all satuni closed,..."your voice trailed off for a second, as if you were afraid of your own words. "The house just breathes."

***

Piano.

The sounds of lullabies.

This was the sound that James realized was coming from The crimson peak's galley room.

He slowly wandered in, looking around the room, but his eyes stopped on the fireplace, where the inscription was located.

**Ad montes oculos levavi.**

"I lift my eyes to the mountains," Thomas muttered loudly, not just playing the piano.

"Sorry to interrupt," Jim apologized, feeling guilty. "I'll be right back..."

"It's okay."

Jim's brow furrowed. He didn't know what to say, so he asked.

"And this tune... Where is she?" he came closer to the piano.

"An old lullaby that I used to sing Y/N as a child.

"I can imagine you as children in this house. You play music, and Y/N, unlike their peers and other girls, makes something, " Jim's voice was filled with admiration.

However, the next words disappointed the guy.

"We were not allowed to be here. We usually spent time in the nursery. In the attic," Thomas's voice was steely. James didn't understand how two such opposites could get along. "Sometimes my mother played the piano. That's what we knew when she came home. Mom, " Thomas smiled hatefully, as if trying to drown out the memory of his childhood.

But in the last few seconds, Jim had been very attracted to the porter of a woman, as he had suggested — a mother.

"Portrait somehow-" Jim didn't mean to offend, but the portrait looked very terrifying.

"...Intimidating? That's right, " Thomas got up from his chair and walked over to the writer he hated. "Yeah... Striking similarity. I like to think it's worth it from there. She sees everything perfectly."

***

_Clearly lit, the moon raced through the smoky clouds, detailed and thin in outline. The dull white snow on the ground occasionally brightened, the sky brightened, the shadows of trees and huts were outlined. A strange light! You could see everything in it, but you could barely see it. In this light, the world is several times larger than in the daytime, and behind the habitually distant moon, a huge space was still visible, more compressed, more visible..._

_I wanted to fly over the ground, silently, and almost believed in the supernatural in this night..._

_When you looked at the darkish snow, spots flickered in the volume of air._

_"Lullaby, and good night, you are mother’s delight_

_I’ll protect you from harm, and you’ll wake in my arms_

_Sleepyhead, close your eyes, for I’m right beside you_

_Guardian angels are near, so sleep without fear, " Thomas sang softly to his sister, cradling her and stroking her head, comforting her. He will definitely take revenge on his parents. No one can hurt his sister but himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter


	6. 6

James noticed that something had changed in Y/N and he was only too happy about it. He didn't want to see her sullen and tense all the time. However, they had been married for about three months, and they still hadn't had a wedding night, which was very disappointing to Sharpe. Maybe after their reunion, he could tell her about the ghosts.

They are very scared of him. Red, transparent, with very terrible faces. Their mouths always moved as if they were trying to say something. And it might be true, given that as a child, he had dreamed of a Ghost talking about Crimson Peak.

_**Watch Out For Crimson Peak** _

Today, Jim was wearing his usual white shirt and black pants. Crimson Peak was surprisingly always warm, unlike the winter raging outside. He paused for a moment, then stepped into the Elevator. He drove slowly, and as he did so, Sharpe saw rooms he had not seen before. The Elevator jerked to a stop.

He felt a little dizzy. After all, he was at the top of the house. How was the nursery set up here?

However, by the design of the room, it was clear that this is a children's room. Small children were painted on the mottled walls, the paint already slightly moldy.

Suddenly, James heard the sound of a drill and followed the sound, finding himself in a dark, but very cozy and pleasant in color and location of the room. It was full of various toys, various kinds of clocks and mechanisms.

Here, right at the end of the room, with your back to him, you were sitting under a wool blanket. As Jim understood, you wanted to bring to mind your model of a combine harvester, which can only be built when the snow calms down a little.

"Do you like my workshop?" you asked without even turning to your husband.

"She..." James couldn't find the words. You turned to him with a smile, threw off the blanket, and walked over to him. "Amazing. Did you make all this yourself? " he asked. He was still not used to a girl acting like this and doing things like this. Although... I could have expected a lot from you.

"Yes, I cut out toys for Thomas. I wanted to give him some joy. Although my parents, as well as my brother, were against my hobby. They thought it was a man's business and wanted to make me a lady who would obey her husband, " you stuck out your tongue as if to show disgust and James laughed. You smiled softly.

"So you were in the attic? Your smile faded and you looked at him with sad eyes.

"My father often traveled. The state cannot be left alone. My mother, by the way, also had it before us."

Only Thomas was interested in you, the only person who cared about you. However, sometimes his concern turned into violence. For disobedience came the punishment, after which even disobedient did not want to be.

You sighed softly and looked at your husband. He was very different from your other husbands. Unlike Anthony, your former Italian husband, he was very nice and kind.

You blinked your eyes a couple of times, then looked back at your husband with clear eyes. He was studying a doll-like gentleman with a white face and hair painted black. He had a monocle that accentuated his left eye.

Pressing the lever, the doll made a small show of how a small Golden ball disappears from under one pot to another. James laughed at the absurdity of the action. You smiled and touched his soft brown hair. That sadness has returned to your face.

"So amazing," he murmured softly in admiration.

"You're different," you muttered under your breath, your past thoughts.

"From whom?" James asked, noticing that you were studying his face as if you wanted to remember it forever.

Suddenly, your eyes flashed fire. You threw yourself at the writer with fervor and passion, wrapping your arms around his waist. He responded by burying his hands in your hair and taking a dominant role in the kiss, rocking you on a chair and lifting you slightly. As he continued to kiss you, he put his hand under your shirt, but suddenly you stopped. He looked up from the caress and looked at you questioningly.

"I heard something,"you muttered, shyly pushing your shirt away from your husband. Suddenly the floorboards creaked and you realized it was Thomas.

He came in and gave you and James a fake smile, looking at you with a cold and warning look, as if to say that he had seen everything. You swallowed.

"I knew you were here. I made some delicious tea, I hope you like it, " the man said in a fake caring tone, smiling again with a fake smile. He set the tray on the table, which was littered with wood butts. He poured the tea and handed it to James, who accepted it with a polite smile.

"Thank you, you shouldn't have. However, we didn't have enough company," Jim tried to change the subject. You looked at him, feeling sorry for your husband. Unlike your other past husbands, I didn't want to poison the writer.

"Y/N?" asked Tom. You blinked your eyes a couple of times and tried to forget the thoughts that always haunted you.

"No, I won't, thank you," you muttered, looking back at Jim. Thomas's face hardened again.

"You can pour yourself another drink," Thomas advised, touching your hair and inhaling its scent without being noticed. Oh, he adored it so much. "He's useful," he looked at you suspiciously. "Y/N, can we talk?" he asked, and you nodded in confusion. What did you do wrong this time?

With your head bowed in shame, you followed Thomas out, saying things like "we'll talk later" and "don't you dare follow us."

***

"What are you doing!?" Thomas whispered as he closed the door. You stood in the middle of the room with your head bowed. Now it is better not to resist him and do everything as he says.

After locking the door, he comes up to you and slaps you loudly. Your cheek is burning, but you are silent. No words needed. You're used to it.

"Get undressed," came from him again and looked up from the floor with a puzzled look in her eyes. "Don't worry, we'll be quick and James won't hear."

You obediently began to take off your shirt and pants, closing your eyes and going to the bed, lying down on it.

Thomas looks at you with lustful eyes and continues to slowly unbutton his shirt, as if trying to arouse you, but this makes you more angry and afraid

He approaches you. His blue eyes sparkle in Acro the theme of the room and he smiles greedily. You look from his face to his cock and are horrified. It's solid.

Climbing on the bed, he sits on you and lecherously spits on his palm and covers his penis with it, slowly begins to smear saliva on the penis. You open your eyes in horror, trying to figure out what he's doing. What's happening? Right now, I feel like I'm paralyzed.

"Roll over on your stomach," the man says, and you obey. There is no time to resist.

It enters you. Enter in... anus. You want to scream, and you're about to open your mouth when Thomas closes it with his big hands.

Your body is currently splitting in half and there's nothing you can do. Your butt hurts so much that you feel like you're going to faint from the strain. He lets out a guttural but low moan.

Spreading your buttocks with his hands, he enters you with heat, abandoning the previous slow pace that you wanted to keep

Silent tears flow from your eyes and you see yourself for kissing James, almost in front of your brother. You knew how possessive he could be, and you absolutely didn't want to expose that side of him.

You start to mumble in pain into the little rag that Thomas put in your mouth. He grabs your sweet Breasts and twists them painfully.

In less than a couple of minutes, he comes. And no, not in your ass, but on you, on your feet, while simultaneously jerking off to yourself. You cry softly again, hoping that James didn't hear you.

***

_"Do you like it?" you muttered softly, showing your brother that he was looking at you, a toy._

_Thomas gave you a nice smile. You were absolutely adorable!_

_"This is so wonderful, dear sister," he murmured, accepting your gift. It was a tin soldier. He was very clumsy, but Tom just gave you a smile again._

_Pulling you to him, he hugged you, feeling your small, at that time, hands wrapped around his back. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the sweet smell of it._

_"I swear I will always keep you safe," Sharpe whispered in your ear, pulling you closer to him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter


	7. 7

**2 months later**

"Y/N?" James called you. Is it you who are crying? Because he recently heard someone crying. He realized that it was a nameless cry, and then suddenly remembered that you, especially lately, very often sad — she is, however, a Baroness of blue blood — - it is not suitable for her to cry in front of her husband, so she hides.

Suddenly Jim heard a creak and the bedroom door opened cautiously. He sat down on the bed and looked around the room.

He shook his head and closed the door, but then it opened again, only this time with a larger, longer creak. Her eyes suddenly widened, and a chill ran through her shift. Gathering his courage, he took a step into the corridor. Suddenly, memories of the red man in his dreams flashed through his mind, of Thomas.

About a house that breathes.

***

James stirred sleepily in the middle of the bed from the clock that had recently struck twelve.

Suddenly there was another noise and Sharpe opened his left eye. It was crying again. He turned toward his wife, but she wasn't there.

There were more sobs. The boy slowly looked around the moonlit room. Suddenly he saw a shadow and tried to figure out who it belonged to. Her blood ran cold as she realized that this was none of her thoughts.

I wonder when interest turns to horror? When we first seem to be interested, and then it becomes scary? At what point does this happen?

James started walking slowly through the halls. The floor was terribly cold, and the window sashes were as thin as violin strings. Portraits looked down from above. The statues in the moonlight were very intimidating.

Right in front of the writer, a quick, darting shadow came around the corner.

But no, he missed it. Never see.

Or maybe you didn't want to see it?

The boy continued to glide softly down the corridor. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a nightgown. His hair was very disheveled, and in his hands he held a massive candle. It looked a little like the Ghost that belongs to Allerdale Hall.

The door suddenly slammed shut.

It was watching the way he looks.

Pulling himself out of the floor, painted in all shades of scarlet, a Ghost appeared. A very massive Ghost. It sucked its insides out through the floor: first its head, then its back, and then its legs. Everything about this monster was red: the second arm stretched up from the floor. As Jim stared at him, the monster began to crawl slowly toward him. Faceless. It moved inexorably toward him.

Getting closer.

The guy stepped back. Running quickly into a small room that James later realized was an Elevator, he inserted the key with trembling hands and pressed the lever.

The Monster watched.

Watched and approached.

"Get to work," James muttered to himself, but the Elevator didn't move. It's like it's glued together. "Down, damn you!"

The scarlet substance was slowly approaching a sharp, moving in the hands of one or the other. He was already very close.

However, at this moment, the cabin moved and began to slowly descend. Down, past the second floor, then the first; down, into the darkness, into the basement. The cab jerked to a stop a few feet from the floor.

With trembling hands, he tried the lever. The guy wanted to go up, but the Elevator wouldn't let him. It feels like the house lives on its own.

He took a quick look around the room he was in, and his sharp eyes caught on a dark brown suitcase. On his badge was a sign that read Anthony and the initials A. S.

His own initials.

He wanted to try opening the suitcase, but realized that he didn't have the key. There was nothing underfoot but strange material, Sharpe realized, anchored rocks. When he picked up one of them, he found key chains, a pipe and snuffbox, and even a pair of rings... Under another stone was the burial of bones — very small bones-perhaps a dog. What does it all mean?

***

James looked at the drill, the combine itself, and several combine belts, one of which was located next to a furnace designed for sintering red clay into perfect bars, similar to what his wife had demonstrated in his father's meeting. The chaos that reigned on the site was not at all ordinary and did not fit the lifestyle of the old house.

He was dressed in his favorite suit, a dark blue one that his father had given him for his anniversary.

He went into the kitchen and saw that Thomas had prepared something. Oatmeal. When he tasted it, he almost spat it out, it was so terrible. So he decided to make a regular toast with jam. He also brewed that incredibly bitter tea with pyrocantha. His stomach still ached, and there was also a slight headache. After filling the basket, he went outside.

Snow was falling softly from the crystal-gray sky. The air was fresh and surprisingly invigorating in the morning. Standing up, the guy began to watch you, how you work near this big car, a copy of which you showed earlier in his hometown.

"James, honey," you greeted him, trying to connect one part of the mechanism to the other. "Hold on tight, Billy!" you shouted to the employee. Judging by the disappointment on your face, you didn't make it.

"Y/N, we need to talk!" the guy shouted. You turned back to him, but this time you dropped your unfinished business and walked over to your husband, one arm wrapped around him.

"But James, this is not the time. Thomas is in the house, he will help you-" you didn't really want to leave the men alone in the room, but before you could even finish, you were interrupted.

"I don't want to talk to him!" stopped you guy, resisting. "I want to talk to you," he pointed a finger at your chest.

"Okay," you began irritably. "What's the matter?"

"Tell me, did anyone die in your house?" Jim asked, giving you a quick look. You smiled, grinning and looking at him.

"James, the mansion is hundreds of years old,"you said in a mocking tone. "Many of its residents went to the next world."

"No, I mean strange deaths. Violent, " he whispered the last word, and your grin faded. Does he say anything about you and your brother?

Your, metaphorically speaking, peek-a-Boo game was interrupted by one of the employees.

"Boss!" he yelled, and you rolled your eyes at the man.

"James, this is not a good time," you walked away from him. "Try again, Billy!" you ordered. However, your husband still stood his ground.

Bill lit a fire under the steam boiler and turned the handle. The car shook. Some of the gears turned slightly, vibrating. You gripped one of the valves tightly, trying to hold it in place and desperately wanting it to work.

The vibration increased, but you still didn't let go. Hot water and steam began to escape through the seals. Then from the valve itself, which you were holding, courageously trying to hold it with your hands. Jim saw that you were in pain. And yet you didn't give up. And suddenly a geyser of steam burst out of the valve and fell on your hands. Yelling, you jumped back and your pale face turned red.

With Billy's help, James was able to drag you into the house, into the kitchen. You were covered in red clay that looked like blood, and he had to control himself, even though he could still see his father's dead and bloody face. Even after clearing the scarlet clay from the burn, the Coda was still red.

The Sharps, like many English aristocrats, had a whole lot of healing ointments and other remedies, so James used the ones that were brought to him.

"The pain will soon subside," Jim soothed and promised, caressing your head with his warm and gentle hand. Suddenly you quickly grabbed his hand and your eyes glittered.

"My hands are rougher than yours," you remarked, stroking your husband's hand with the other. "Your father wouldn't approve. The car won't work," your words made Jim sad again and again. "Never, I knew it. I brought you here... And who is your wife? A unlucky person, with no hint of a lady's ability."

"Don't say that," Jim interrupted, clearly objecting to this belittling of your abilities. "You are my whole life."

"Employees are trying. We have to get there before winter, or we'll have to stop. And the estate will be called Crimson peak again, " you muttered softly to yourself, and James turned to you in confusion.

"What did you say?"

"Crimson Peak," your tone was very light-hearted, as if it was a well-known fact. "That's what they call it. The ore contained in the clay comes to the surface, turning the snow red. So, Crimson Peak, " you finished and left the room, leaving the young husband standing there in confusion.

You sighed softly. I didn't want to do anything right now, but I had to get there before winter.

"What is it, dear sister?" a commanding voice came from behind you. You rolled your eyes as you pulled away from your brother's hand.

"It doesn't matter," you muttered as you passed Thomas, who was standing in confusion. When did his sister become so bold?

***

_"When I grow up, I'll be a master or a scientist!" you exclaimed, showing your brother a small combine harvester you made. He gave you a soft smile._

_You were just a ray of sunshine in the life of a 14-year-old boy who was now happily smiling at you, forgetting everything. He opened his arms and you came to him, hugging him back. Taking you by the chin, he pulled you towards him and kissed you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter.


	8. 8

James woke up with a sick feeling in his stomach. He had felt it yesterday, but now it was even more pronounced.

"Y/N!" the guy exclaimed. "Y/N!"

In this light, he saw that his wife was not in the bed next to him. He quickly lit a candle and pointed it at the bed, horrified: there were drops of blood on his pillow, right in front of his mouth. He touched his lips

There was a rustle of silk.

And a strange smell.

Lavender.

Then he realized that there was something in the room. Or someone.

However, he saw nothing. Their bedroom looked perfectly normal. Suddenly, he felt something again. A look and a touch on the neck. Goose bumps covered her cheeks and forehead, and her lips trembled. It's in the back?

Can it touch it?

He feels bad. Is he delusional? Or dying, since he's been able to talk to ghosts.

Shivering, he got to his feet. High and terrible screams came from the bathroom.

Without thinking for a moment, James rushed to the door. At first it's completely empty and you can't see anything, but then-

Semi-submerged, only slightly protruding above the crimson surface.

A decomposed and barely human-looking corpse, its outline blurred, transparent, and at the same time dense, emitting red-purple smoke. Dried blood gurgled, everything was dead.

Jim was paralyzed with horror.

The skull was cut in half with a butcher's axe, which was very firmly embedded in the skull.

Sharpe couldn't say a word.

But then the figure moved and moved. Rising from the bathroom, some of the red water splashed onto the floor. The twisted face and body of this creature — this woman — moved toward him.

"Y/N!" the writer shouted, running out of the room. "Y/N!"

And after him, reflected from the walls of the corridor, the creature is not heard to him.

**"Watch out for Thomas!"** the woman croaked.

The creature he had run away from was now suddenly right in front of him. It stood at the far end of the hall, a naked old woman with an axe in her head. Her eyes were filled with rage and madness.

**"Getting out of here, James!"**

"Y/N! Hurry up! " he shouted. You, turning the corner, from unexpected hugs, almost fell, but a couple of times blinking, you looked at your husband. "Y/N, there's a woman in the hallway!

***

"There was hatred in his eyes, but also knowledge. She knows who I am and wants me gone, " James muttered to you and Thomas. His eyes were terrified and worried, and his voice was very hoarse and he often stuttered.

"Nonsense, my dear," Thomas echoed, pouring poison tea. "you're not going anywhere," the man then turned to you and Jim. You immediately looked up at your brother and his words sent shivers down your spine. You'll never leave here, either. You belong next to Thomas. That's what he said. "It was a nightmare. You were walking in your sleep."

After giving your husband a Cup of tea and flashing you a look, Thomas squatted down next to the writer, trying to show and portray concern.

"No! I'll go crazy if I stay here, " the guy took of tea. Thomas looked at you again, urging you to act. You walked over to him, leaning in.

"Dear, this monster is your wild imagination. Can we walk together tomorrow? Let's go to the post office. I'm sure the fresh air will do you good," you tried to convince him, kissing his hand. He snatched it from your hands, muttering:

"No, no, I need to leave. I'm happy to find out from here," James tried to get up, but failed as Thomas blocked his path.

"James, your home is here now," Thomas said in an authoritative voice, and you looked down. "Honey, you have nowhere else to go."

***

**It** watched as the Sharpes left James's room, drugging him with tea and pyrocantha.

"What's going on? How could he know? About our mother?" Tom asked questions. You followed him, barely keeping up with his long stride.

"I don't know, I didn't tell you anything," you shrugged.

"What does he want?" Thomas stopped and so did you.

"I don't understand," you said, frowning. "He's very scared. I'll go pick up the parts for the car tomorrow and take it with me. Let him be distracted, " you suggested. Tom nodded and headed up the stairs.

"Yes, just get him out of here. And as soon as the money is transferred, we will get rid of it, " Thomas left. You remained standing. His words made your skin crawl. His face paled. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

You sat down on the stairs and covered your eyes with your hands. The palm of your hand immediately became wet. The tears didn't stop flowing. Why does it have to be you? Why is Thomas your brother?

You didn't want to kill James, and you will do anything to keep him alive. Even sacrifice your life.

***

The snowfall was very heavy and only increased with each passing moment. The post office was surrounded by village carts that loaded and unloaded parcels and boxes, trying to outrun the weather.

"This is a regulator valve that was made separately, especially for me, in Glasgow," you whispered in admiration, almost squealing with joy. When you looked at James, you noticed a small grin on his face and smiled at him. Now you looked like a little kid who got presents for Christmas. "Maybe it's all about him. Thanks to this thing, our mines will open soon, " you put your arm around his shoulders and pulled him to you for a kiss. He answered you, but you were interrupted.

"Mrs. Sharpe?" the unknown man asked, and you looked up from your husband and followed him.

"Ah, excellent, thank you!" James heard you exclaim. He smiled softly.

"You're Mr. Sharpe, right?" the middle-aged man asked Jim, who frowned and nodded. "Excuse me, sir, but I have letters for you," he went to the counter and rummaged through his things, pulling out two letters. "Two of them are just custom-made from your missus," Jim took out, starting to examine. "These, and another came here from far away. From Milan, " the man uttered the last sentence in complete admiration.

"But I don't know anyone from Italy," Sharpe muttered in confusion as he accepted the letter.

"I don't want to be Intrusive, but it turns out that you know," the man said and left, while James remained standing there, looking at the letter. On the front side it was written that it's from Anthony Slover.

***

"This guy, Christian, is your hero," you murmured thoughtfully as you scanned your husband's book at the head of the bed. You chuckled. "I like its mystery. Tell me, will he live?"

The room you were so kindly assigned at the top of the post office was not very comfortable. More like just warm. All you had to do now was wait out this snowfall and head back home to Crimson Peak. You imagined how nervous Thomas would be.

"That depends on him," James muttered, answering the question very ambiguously. You turned your head in disbelief.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Jim tried to find the words. "Characters talk to you, change, make their own choices," the guy said, starting to make the bed with you. You frowned.

"Your choice," you muttered softly to yourself. You never had a choice, and if you tried to do something your own way, you were immediately punished.

You lay down on the bed. You sat down, and James rested his head on your lap, almost purring at how nice it felt when you stroked his hair.

"Well, heh, the room is pretty depressing, but... But it's warm, " you smiled. Now you can forget about all the fears and sorrows and just be close to Jim.

"Oh, but I like it better here," the guy said, and you laughed.

"More than where?" you asked.

"More than in Crimson Peak," Jim replied, and your smile faded. You didn't like the family estate very much either, and you wanted to leave, but your brother wouldn't let you out.

"Home is all we have," you said softly, lowering your eyes.

"I left my old life. Give up everything. We could live anywhere, " Jim suggested. On your face once again bloomed with a smile.

"And where?"

"In London," James offered perilously, and you laughed again. "In Paris," he saw your grin. "In Milan," he continued, but stopped when you stopped smiling again. "Have you ever been to Italy?"

"Yes, I was once," you looked away, looking at the fireplace.

"It's the past, honey. You often look back on the past, but you won't find me there. I'm here, " he ran his fingers down your cheek and you leaned in, whispering into his face:

"I'm here too," followed by a long kiss.

Wanting his love to make you listen, James carefully climbed on top of you. Desire filled him when he kissed you and pressed his body against you. After hugging you, he began to kiss you passionately and felt the response. You wanted him, too.

Even more than he did you.

As in the workshop, passion flared up instantly. Without paying any attention to your bandaged hand, Jim laid you on your back and pulled down his trousers, preparing to enter you. You opened up to him, and he finally got inside you.

They became one and finally love.

**I love him,** you thought to yourself.

***

_Everything will be all right now, Thomas thought, clutching the butcher's axe, which was covered in blood. He looked at his mother's corpse indifferently, kicking it with his foot. "Now I can protect my little sister."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter.


	9. 9

In the morning, you and James woke up in a new reality. They were finally married.

Jim wasn't too tired from the ride home, because you talked to him almost non-stop. Now there will be no barriers between you. They will move and travel.

As he helped you down from the carriage, James kissed you and smiled as he slipped into the house, leaving you to join the coachman who was now helping you carry the car to the workshop.

"Thomas!" called James, your brother. "Thomas!"

Oddly enough, no one answered. However, there was some noise in the kitchen. They had Breakfast a long time ago, so the hedgehog now does not hurt. And something hot to keep you warm. You can even have that bitter tea. James went into the kitchen, putting the letters that had come to him yesterday on the table.

"Thomas, we're home!" your husband shouted again, and immediately noticed a knock in the far corner. Thomas came out, his eyes glassy and his eyes ringed.

"I was making Breakfast," he muttered, turning to the stove and turning something off. Jim stared at him in disbelief, chuckling and folding his hand over his chest. "Where have you been?" asked Thomas, inclining his head as mechanically as if he were a toy created by his wife.

"Well, we got caught in a snowstorm," Jim tried to find an excuse when he was interrupted.

"You didn't come home at night," the man said quietly and coldly, slowly starting to feel angry and cleaning up the scattered food. You knew the rules.

Jim gave Thomas a very suspicious look. Since when are they not allowed to leave the house?

"Yes, we stayed at the post office," James's voice was full of doubt, but there was also a touch of affection for you.

Thomas clenched his hand into a fist. You promised to be just his... Since you were a child, you swore to be only with him and not with anyone else. Now Tom really wanted to kill your husband, but he knew it wasn't the right time. Maybe tomorrow or the day after tomorrow and the time will come.

"You spent the night there," Thomas didn't know what to say. He was very disappointed in you. Since when did you become so bold and defy his rules and orders? His eye twitched. He must show you who you belonged to.

"What's the big deal, Thomas?" James's voice sounded puzzled. He didn't understand his possessiveness towards you. You were only related, so why was he like this?.. strange? His dissatisfaction put James to a standstill. What was it about them finally taking advantage of the couple's privileges and becoming real legal spouses? It was as if they had to ask his permission. "She is my legal spouse,"

"You think this is a game?! Tom shouted at the guy, who dodged him in fright, slightly pinching himself. "I was going crazy here!"

"What are you talking about?" the writer asked in response, putting his hands on his chest.

"Who?" Thomas lowered his eyes, beginning to relax a little. He took several deep breaths. Taking it out on your sister's husband is too low. But on you, just right. "They... in a snowstorm... I thought something had happened to you." His speech changed and he started talking again, like a robot. "I was lonely. He walked slowly to the table and picked up the letters, frowning slightly. "These letters are from America," he muttered.

"I don't feel well," James whispered, leaning against the wall for support. Thomas looked at him with his cold blue eyes and said:

"I'll make some tea," the man seemed to pull himself together. He bustled around the kitchen looking for tea while Jim's stomach twisted in pain. The writer's eyes fell on a bunch of keys lying on the table next to the letters. Thomas always carried them with him, jealously guarding them. He didn't even give them to his sister.

The guy noticed a name on one of the keys. Anthony. The same name as the one on the suitcase he found. This is a secret. Is this about Anthony sharp? About a relative?

While Thomas poured water into the kettle, James carefully and unobtrusively removed the key from the ring and returned the bunch to the table.

However, he began to feel dizzy again. The room spun, and my stomach twisted with unpleasant sensations. He was so happy with his wife at the post office, in the village, that he forgot what this house could be like.

Thomas put the kettle on the stove and looked at Jim again, but this time with a more suspicious look.

"These letters are from your lawyer," the man murmured with satisfaction, smiling slightly. "However, you will read them later. Now, the tea is ready and you will feel better immediately."

***

James was alone again. Thomas, who had helped him to his room, handed him the tea and left. When he opened the first letter, he realized that it was from an old friend of his father's.

_**"My dear James,** _

_**I am informing you that I transferred some of my father's money to you. Your signature is required to translate the rest.** _

_**Sincerely yours,** _

_**Mr. Holder"** _

It was brilliant, James thought, but he was still tormented. And he didn't know how much it is. It seems that he decided that he gave up that life and that now he lives in a new way. However, he missed his homeland.

Suddenly he coughed, raising the handkerchief to his mouth.

A circle of blood formed on it. God, was it consumption or something worse? The dampness of the wave can cause illness. Maybe that's why he feels this way.

Jim and you need to get out of here right away. He just didn't know how you and your brother lived here. Cold, damp, dark. You, as well as the writer himself, needed sunlight and clean air.

***

You have never been so happy and close to fulfilling your dream. You licked your lips, which were dry and cold in the cold, and tasted victory. Very soon, when this machine is working, you will be able to hire workers who can help you and Thomas restore Allerdale Hall. And that's when the Sharps will be famous again.

Rolling up the distressed landscape with white colors, the snow fell very slowly. The men who came from the village you hired were now running around the harvester like ants. By giving a signal to one of the employees to start the mechanism again

The gods, apparently being merciful to you again, made the car work. You stood there for a few seconds, not believing what was happening. Does it really work? Did your labors not go in vain?

The employees smiled, beginning to shower you with congratulations. You promised them a couple of coins and two bottles of mulled wine.

I need to tell James

In your excitement, you didn't notice that the snow was turning red. The clay oozed right out from under your feet.

***

Jim watched your triumph, and thoughts of consumption and tuberculosis quickly faded into the background. What mattered to us now was whether you were happy. His wife is not a loser and he always knew it. All you needed was just the right funds and a lot of money.

Jim sat down at the table, dipping the pearl in the inkwell and looking at the document again. To you, he was officially sir James Sharpe and was ready to sign it. He will give the documents to his wife as soon as she comes to him with good news.

Ceremoniously holding up the beautiful pen that his father had given him for his birthday, his attention suddenly turned to the envelope with the name A. Sharpe on it. Putting down the pen, he examined it again. From Italy, they said.

Taking out a knife, he cut open the envelope and took out the letter. It was written in Italian. So this man wasn't the recipient. As he had tried to explain to the clerk that the letter did not belong to him.

"Anthony," James whispered aloud, frowning slightly. No one ever called a relative by the name of Anthony.

Clearing his throat again, he glanced at the text. He studied Italian, but only superficially. It seems that he will have to use the help of the dictionary and the library, which he absolutely did not want to visit.

***

You called Thomas out on the street so he can share in your joy. Indeed, as soon as he left the house, he was immediately shocked. The car of his sister, the woman! got. Now Thomas was very excited, and so were you, because his future depended on this combine.

The mechanism was really beautiful and its parts glistened in the weak sun.

There was no limit to your joy.

"Wonderful, isn't it!?"you cried, as soon as Thomas came to his senses. He smiled at you softly. "It's been working for an hour! We won! We did it, Thomas, " you hugged your brother tightly, feeling a very strong hug in return. He was just as happy as you were. "I wish James could see this," you said dreamily, completely forgetting that Thomas wouldn't tolerate the mention of your husband. He pulled away from you, and then you realized you'd misfired.

"James?" asked Tom, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest, in a stern but resentful tone. "I helped you," you put your hands on his shoulders, not wanting to anger him any more.

"Yes, of course, you are. This is our merit and no one else's, " you said encouragingly, giving him a soft smile, but your brother's face only hardened.

***

Grabbing his coat from the rack and draping it over his nightgown, James fought back his fears and sobs. Right now, he just couldn't think straight. His wife, his! married a man three times and he was the fourth. She had a child and tried to send it away, just for the sake of an inheritance!

Jim was overcome with emotion. How so? He thought that he was the only one, but it turned out that he was just a toy in the hands of skilled puppeteers. But the father made it clear that you need to stop communicating with them, that you need to become a model husband for another. Another woman, a real lady, and not to be with you, a girl, though from a rich family, but behaving like a man.

Jim ran to the door and flung it open. Near the door, the beginning of snowdrifts, maybe even more than two or one feet. Pausing in the doorway, he was tormented by fear.

Watch Out For Crimson Peak! even his mother had warned him, but no, he had listened to her.

Because he didn't know anything.

I crouched at the door, my stomach twitching again. Blood ran from Jim's mouth, as red as snow.

"Please, no," Jim repeated to himself, leaning against the door of the house. However, his body did not obey and he passed out.

***

A yellow light shone on James's face and a groan came from his side. His eyes fluttered and he slowly opened them. Thomas was standing in front of his bed, Breakfast in hand. He gave a false smile.

"You're awake!" he came closer. Jim tried to get up, but his head was spinning again and he couldn't do anything. All he could do was lie uselessly in bed. "We found you lying on the steps. Are you feeling better?"

If only, the writer chuckled to himself. But then you came in from the door and rolled up a chair. "I'll take care of him," you said, drawing your brother away from her husband. He turned to you, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You'll be out of bed soon," Thomas promised, slipping out of the room. You, watching your brother and hearing the door slam, first of all went to your husband, snatching a Cup of tea from his hands.

"Never drink this."

***

As soon as James ate the porridge, you took the tray to the kitchen. There, Thomas, like a lion in a cage, darted from side to side, and you wondered how you could get your husband out of the house without your brother knowing about it.

But he will find out. We need to come up with a plan right away.

"He knows," Thomas said, finally sitting down at the table and calming his anger. He wasn't himself. Now he may break down and you may be his target.

"He's sick," you said hastily, changing the subject. "He's dying."

Thomas looked at you like you were crazy. Since when do you care so much about him? He was so startled that he couldn't speak for a while.

"Of course, he's dying. Refuses to drink my tea, but it doesn't matter," he announced, watching your reaction. "I put poison in his porridge."

You couldn't take it anymore. You never really spoke out against your brother, because you knew that there would be a penalty for this. You were just avoiding it, but now your patience has run out.

When Tom told you about the poison in the porridge, your heart sank. How could you not have thought of that? So the time has come. You should have challenged your brother.

"Thomas, stop it!" you said in a steely voice, sitting down across from your brother.

He's been your protector for years. Your idol. And now you were crying because you knew that the death of your husband, your only lover in the world, would be inevitable.

The relatives were silent for a while.

"You won't leave me, will you?" Thomas asked

"No, I can't," you said. In fact, you would have been happy to leave, but you knew that your brother would always find you.

He dried your tears with his tongue. They clung to each other, orphans whose parents ' death brought them great freedom and release from control. Stripped of everything but impenetrable darkness.

***

_"Dad told mom that he wants to separate us. Send me to a private school, and you to a Swiss boarding school for young people, " Thomas said, crying, squeezing his shoulders._

_"No!" you exclaimed in shock, clearly protesting this decision._

_"We can't let that happen," Thomas said, taking your hand. "We must swear that we will not let anyone separate us."_

_"I swear," you shouted, raising your hand to your heart. "I swear with all my heart."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this Chapter.


	10. 10

James woke up weak and restless, but at least alive. His stomach turned into a thousand knots and seemed to twist a hundred times. When he reached the bathroom with a groan, he knelt by the toilet. He was vomiting blood clots.

However, he felt even worse now. He didn't want to think about what his wife had done to other men and what she had done to him.

I thought she would save me, James thought. She promised.

He staggered, trying to get back into the room. James wondered why his wife hadn't woken up. You couldn't just lie there doing nothing. That would be too cruel.

"Y/N!" he went to the edge of the bed. "Honey, I need help."

He threw off the blanket.

You weren't there.

I guess I'll have to use a wheelchair. James practically fell on top of it and started spinning the wheels with shaking hands. He didn't know what to think. Killing is one thing, but why make him suffer?

James had to stop many times because the wheels creaked so much. As he tried to move forward, he realized that there was some kind of dragging motion hanging over him, as if someone was trying to warn him. However, if someone wants to catch up with him, he will not be able to escape.

Jim kept moving, pushing the wheels with his hands, too alarmed at his own weakness. He won't be able to get into the Elevator, and he won't be able to take the stairs either. It didn't matter, he couldn't get out of the house anyway.

Where is Y/N? Did she leave him? Why would the guy believe her at all? Were she and her brother at home? Is this how they killed their previous victims? Fed them poison and then let them die alone, without support?

Actions worthy of cowards.

Worthy Of Y/N.

Why would she even promise to take his side and help him escape if she couldn't get out of here on her own?

Jim shook his head and, despite his weakness, started off in an unknown direction.

However, he suddenly heard someone humming a tune. Obsessive, sad, and intimidating. It was a lullaby. The writer moved toward the sound.

The melody seemed to last forever. Following the melody, James realized it was coming from behind a large door. Gathering his strength, he opened it.

Outside the door, you were hugging a man, and his profile was clearly visible. His bare shoulders offered themselves to be kissed, and his face was hidden. He clung to her.

Who is it?

Her lover?

You flinched and turned, your eyes filled with despair and sadness. It was like they were trying to apologize. The man followed you.

James's eyes widened. The unknown man was Thomas.

And this was his room. The room where the Sharpes ' secret, revealed by Jim, was kept: Thomas was his sister's lover.

***

You were consumed with thoughts. It was so fucking wrong. So wrong. Suddenly you heard a creaking sound and slowly turned your head. Your eyes expressed sadness and softly whispered: "Forgive."

Jim, still looking at you with those deer eyes, turned around and got out of the wheelchair and walked to the Elevator, grabbing the walls. His eyes were tear-stained and very red.

Behind him was Thomas, dressed only in a shirt and light trousers. He was smiling maliciously.

Elevator. He was the only hope. He pressed a button, begging the machine to move faster. Unfortunately, without success. Thomas caught up with him and grabbed him roughly by the collar of his nightgown. As he tried to adjust, he felt the sick force of the grip. He was clearly stronger. His face shone with hatred, rage, and ... obsession?

"Now it's all out, honey," the man said triumphantly, turning James to face him. His back pressed against the balcony railing. "There's no need to pretend. Who I really am, and who she is."

Grabbing James by the arm, he tried to remove the blood ring. An ancient relic. The metal scraped painfully against his skin.

Thomas pulled and pulled. He pushed James against the railing, which was very flimsy and ready to break.

"I knew it!" James exclaimed, tears streaming down his face again. "You're not her brother!"

At that moment, you appeared in the hall, your hands outstretched in the direction of James and Thomas. Your face is pale and your eyes are popping out of your head. Was it because of fear - for James or for Thomas?

"Thomas, stop it!" you shouted, trying to stop your brother.

Thomas, despite his thin build, was very strong. There was determination on his face. James, clinging to it, tried to resist, but it was defeated. Sick and confused, Jim finally understood what the ring meant to Thomas-family ties to you.

Tom finally put the ring on his finger and slapped the writer's face hard.

"You're so stupid," the man said contemptuously to the boy's face. "I told her everything!"

"Thomas, don't do this!" I heard a voice from your side, literally begging for mercy.

Then he pushed James off the balcony. The guy felt the impact, felt its force, and the parquet floor flew towards him. He was flying down.

This death seemed to James quick and painless. At least I escaped from the horror of a cruel death. On impact, he saw a light. Is that blood? Or his own brain?

***

In his dream, James saw the sun. He saw himself, his mother, and his father walking in the Park on a summer day. He was eating ice cream, but suddenly an unpleasant thought crept into his head.

Thomas and Y/N have never had such a life. There are no happy memories for them.

Jim's eyes suddenly fluttered. He opened the door slowly, scanning the room in parallel. There was nothing unusual about it, only Thomas, who was now walking around the room looking for something. James was about to get up when Thomas interrupted.

"You don't have to read it," he advised, shoving a pen and papers under the boy's hands. "Just sign it."

When Tom saw that James wasn't doing anything, He sighed and walked slowly back to the fireplace, with the fire burning strongly, like James's tossing about you.

The two men were silent for a while, but it was Thomas who broke the ominous and tense silence.

"And I thought I was a writer," he chuckled, reading a book by his sister's husband and simultaneously throwing the sketches into the fireplace, which immediately accepted them, devouring them with its deep flame. "All these ghosts," he raised his eyebrows in mock admiration and turned his head to Jim. He sighed as he put the book down on the table. "What are you waiting for, James? You don't have to live anymore. I took the pen and squeezed it tightly. "The men we found in London, Edinburgh, Milan-

"America," the guy prompted.

"Yes, and in America," realizing that James craved a sequel, he continued. 

"They had what we needed. Money, broken dreams... and deceased relatives. No one was looking for them."

Then Jim noticed that he had said " them." He didn't add anything about it. Does this mean that he was different? He was removed from the list. You once said it was different. At the time, he thought it was a compliment.

"And this is what is in store for me?" James asked defiantly. He was angry now. How he hated this man. "What about that Italian? Anthony. You killed his child!" he accused him, and Thomas just rolled his eyes.

"Nothing like that. None of them were close to Y/N. Don't you understand?" he asked contemptuously, and James frowned. If not from Tony, then... "The baby was mine," Tom whispered in a low voice, as if hiding some state secret.

"All this horror," James whispered softly after Tom. "For what? Money? To save the estate? Mines and social status? " he practically shouted, pulling at his hair in incomprehension.

"Marriages were made for the sake of inheritance, and horror..."

He went to a narrow Cabinet and opened one of the drawers. Behind the door turned out to be tools for preparation. He took a scalpel.

"The horror was in the name of love. Strong feelings push you to do crazy things. Cruel. Full of pain and despair."

It was coming closer, and James iza was trying not to scream like a frightened girl.

"This kind of love cripples you. Yes, it is a monstrous love. It turns people into monsters."

The man lunged forward and grabbed James by the short hair. He used a scalpel to cut off a lock of hair and stepped back. The writer gasped for air.

"But you didn't see her as a child," the man said admiringly. "Y/N. She was so fragile, like... porcelain figurine. But I had nothing to give her. Except for myself.

He opened another drawer and placed a fifth in it, next to the other four curls. The leftmost hair was very pale and old, as if they had cut it off for an old woman. Perhaps it was lady Beatrice sharp. The woman they killed first.

"I protected her from her mother. And I got hit with a stick. But then she found out our secret. Accidentally, " he picked up a pair of scissors. How many piercing and cutting objects there are. "But then she turned to Y/N... well, I protected her, as I promised. But she doesn't know about it."

He killed his mother. Not Y/N. And Thomas himself. And now he's here, right next to me.

"The love we gave each other with Y/N is the only one we know. In this decaying house. Away from everyone."

James barely listened to him. His thoughts were now focused on the pen.

"But that's not true. You're choking her! " he retorted hotly.

"Sign now! Sign your damn name! " shouted Thomas.

James wants to cry, but he can't. He won't let them win. Just not right now.

"My time has not come yet... However, I have one question. What about my father? Who killed him?"

Let it not be Y/N. Not only Y/N.

A triumphant smile spread across Thomas's face. Jim's eye twitched.

"So stern and so haughty. He loved you so much. You should have seen his pitiful face when I broke his head."

No! James exclaimed inwardly. He leaned forward slowly, signing the papers in his own sprawling hand. While Thomas was exulting, he stuck a gold pen in her chest. He yanked it out and stuck it in again.

Thomas staggered back. He clutched at the wound.

James jumped to his feet and hobbled toward the door. Behind him, Thomas was tearing at his shirt, blood pouring from under it.

Jim didn't walk so much as fall forward toward the Elevator. He must live. And if he wants to stop them, he must survive.

And then he saw you coming to meet him, and he tried to scream. You raised your hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"James!" you shouted at him.

He stopped, not because of you, but because he was tired of walking.

"James, you can't go up the stairs," you informed him briefly. "I'll help you get on the Elevator."

As if hypnotized, he raised the Golden pen he used against you.

"You promised that you would help."

"Yes".

"You lied!"

"Yes."

"You sent me!"

"Poisoned."

"You said you loved me!"

"I love you," you echoed, grabbing his hands tightly.

Now James could see your face properly: you really loved him. You loved him and you love him.

"I really love you. James, please. Please believe me one more time. You can leave or wait for me, but I will definitely return these papers to you, " you said with determination. "I'll get it over with."

***

Brother, you thought, you stepped into the room. It was chaotic. It contains a permitted collection of insects. In the house, Thomas treated his exhibits as if they were precious. And here was one of them.

 **Did I ever think this was normal?** you were thinking to yourself. **Didn't I notice that we were turning into monsters?**

Thomas wasn't in the room, but the Bank papers were there. They were scattered all over the room. When you found the page with your husband's signature, you threw the papers into the fire.

There was already a lot of ash in the fireplace, as if something had already been burned. What could it be?

And when you realized, your jaw dropped. These were James's manuscripts and Thomas burned them. If you take the three previous men — Patrick, Marty, Anthony, you and your brother did not feel any hatred for them and regularly poisoned them, looking at their torment.

A shadow suddenly appeared around the corner and you looked up from your thoughts. At first you thought it was one of those ghosts that James sees. But no, it was Thomas.

"You burned them," Tom said, his mouth hanging open. He held a scalpel in one hand and held the other behind his back.

"Thomas-"

"You burned the papers," Thomas repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, he will live. You won't touch him," you said firmly, casting a quick glance at your mad brother. You disobeyed him a third time.

"Are you ordering me?"

"We can leave, Thomas. Leave this place."

"To leave?" it's like he didn't hear what you said. There was no other place for him to live. He won't leave, and neither will you. So he decided and so it will be.

"We will try to start a new life."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. No matter. We'll leave everything here. This house will go to hell. We have protected him for so long, but now we will be free. Free, Thomas, " you encouraged, grabbing his hands. "We'll all be free," and then you realized you'd misfired.

"Is that all? Do you love him?" there was anger and betrayal in Thomas's voice. He was betrayed and betrayed by the very person he was protecting.

"This day has come."

"You promised-"

"Me and you in the middle of this rot. Who are we now?" you asked the question, but Bart wasn't even listening.

"That you love me-"

"Look what happened to us."

"You promised that you would never love anyone again," the man said with disbelieving eyes, looking into the distance.

"Yes, but it happened," you said, almost in a whisper.

However, what you didn't expect was that Thomas would attack you. Not with the knife that he threw aside, but with the handcuffs that he held in his left hand.

Your eyes are wide open. Where did he get the handcuffs? Trying to escape from his grip, you did not expect that Tom was very strong and in one second dragged kicking you to a chair and handcuffed you so that you can not leave.

After kissing your forehead, stroking your hair, and inhaling your scent, he moved away from you and spoke:

"Now I have to do one important thing. I hope you understand me, " when you saw that he was holding a scalpel, you realized that he was probably going to kill James right now.

Your eyes widened again and you held out your free hand to your brother. He was already leaving and didn't even turn around when you shouted:

"No, Thomas, don't do this! I love James!"

***

There was only one thought in Thomas's mind. And that thought was the murder of James, his sister's husband. He always cringes a little when Jim is called his sister's husband.

Tom was looking around the house as He hurried down the stairs. If the doors are still open and the Elevator leads to the kitchen... So James is in the kitchen.

You shouldn't have fallen in love. All you had to do was obey him. But not falling in love. You couldn't fall in love, as he and Thomas were never allowed to do that.

"T-Thomas?" said the voice, and Tom looked at him. james. It was Jim. He grinned and tightened his grip on the scalpel.

***

You sat in the room, chained to a chair, in complete silence. Just the sound of a ticking clock that your ears can hear.

"Please," you muttered to yourself. "Please don't kill him. I love him."

"It's late, my dear sister," a voice said, and you looked up. The owner of the voice was your brother, who was grinning at you. Your sharp eye noticed that there was blood on his hands and a couple of bloodstains on his shirt.

Your eyes widened and you started crying again. No, she sobbed. He killed him! Killed! Killed your love!

Thomas strode over to you and leaned down to stroke your cheek, licking your tears with his rough tongue. He sighed and pulled her into his arms.

You tried to pull away, but all you got was a warning look and the hug tightened.

 **"You're all mine now,"** he whispered in your ear, biting it lightly. **"I won't let you fall in love or leave me again."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you liked this story.  
> thank you to all those who were with me, voted and commented on this story. thank you very much!


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